Mom looked around wildly, wine dripping off her chin and running down her chest. Her makeup gave up its hold on her skin as flesh-colored rivulets ran onto the bodice of her dress.
An uneasy hush had fallen over the crowd. People weren’t sure if they should laugh or offer assistance or what. Another round of flashbulbs went off, reminding everyone that this series of unfortunate events was on the record.
Landon Wyatt shot Robert a look that promised pure pain. Robert didn’t allow himself to shy away. He met Landon’s stare head-on and then wiped alcohol from his chin. Really, Jeannie had done an excellent job making as big a mess as humanly possible.
“No, no,” Mom said, finding her voice and grabbing Jeannie’s hand before she could start smearing the body makeup. “But why don’t you and I go to the ladies’ room? I bet you’ll feel better after we both freshen up.” She looked to her husband—for permission. The pause made Robert’s teeth grind.
This, he vowed, would be the very last time Cybil Wyatt asked her husband for permission to do anything.
Landon nodded. “Perhaps we should cut the duchess off.” He turned back to the crowd. “I suppose the Brits can’t hold their liquor.”
“I’d like to hold her,” someone muttered. Robert didn’t see who’d spoken but he refused to allow himself to react.
Leaning heavily on Mom, Jeannie allowed herself to be led toward the ladies’ room, babbling about how Grafton would be most upset...
She’d missed her calling as an actress; that much was clear. Robert felt an odd sort of pride at her performance. But that was immediately followed by an even odder sort of fear as he caught Landon looking after the women. Robert recognized that look. It seemed benign, that level gaze, that slight quirk to the lips. Friendly, almost.
A shiver raced down Robert’s back and he had to dig his nails into his palm to keep from letting it out. Because the times he’d seen Landon Wyatt look like that—especially if he made it to a full smile—those were some of the worst moments of Robert’s life.
Like a nightmare come to life, Landon’s smile widened.
It didn’t matter that Jeannie hadn’t looked or acted like herself. She was in danger for embarrassing Landon in front of his friends and donors and cameras. Jeannie might as well have painted a big red target on her back, and Robert? He would be in just as much trouble for bringing the notorious Lady FitzRoy to the party in the first place.
That was bad enough. When Landon discovered Jeannie had actually absconded with his wife...
Robert’s lungs wouldn’t move, wouldn’t inflate. It only got worse when Landon turned back to the crowd. His gaze snagged on Robert and the man smirked.
Smirked.
This was Robert’s doing, all of it. He’d agreed to let her come, agreed to let her act the part of a noble drunk. It was Robert’s job to keep Jeannie safe. A deadening hole opened up in his stomach as he realized what that meant.
He had to stay as far away from her as possible. No more lunch dates, no more evening drinks at Trenton’s. It didn’t matter if she went back to work or not; Robert couldn’t risk her by ever darkening the restaurant’s doors again.
Well, that was being a little melodramatic. But as long as Landon Wyatt had power and a means to wield it, he was a threat. Robert had always known that. That was why he was sending his mother halfway around the world. Landon was a threat to Robert, to Mom and now to Jeannie.
Tonight would be it, then.
Robert fought the urge to look at his phone. God willing, in less than two minutes, Reginald would be on his way to the private airfield north of the city, where the plane and flight crew were on standby.
Landon’s smile shifted subtly into a more genial look as Robert felt another trickle of champagne drip off his chin. “She got you, too, eh, son?” he said to chuckles, as if he was a sympathetic father.
“I shouldn’t have let her drink,” Robert replied, because that was a sentiment Landon would approve. “I’m sorry for the mess.”
How many seconds had passed? Had it been a minute? Were they in the elevator yet?
Landon stared at him, his eyes flinty, before his whole face changed into one of good humor. “Go get cleaned up—but I expect to see you back here. I’m giving my big speech in a few minutes and the cameras will be rolling.”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” Robert said, managing to paste some sort of smile on his face. It must have been appropriate because people made noises of sympathy.
He hadn’t taken three steps before his phone buzzed. Jeannie. Thank God.
In car
Go
Waiting for you
Go, dammit
Thirty seconds
Jesus, that woman.
Robert broke into a run.
* * *
“Buckle up,” the woman in red said, sounding not particularly drunk nor particularly British.
“Who are you?” Cybil asked, impressed that she could speak at all.
This was really happening. She was really in a private car with a complete stranger who had dragged her into an elevator and then shoved her into a car.
And she was going along with it because the alternative to what was potentially a kidnapping was to stay with Landon.
“A friend of your son’s,” was the reply she got, which was almost comforting. Then the woman in red had her head through the dividing window and was talking to the driver. “Thirty seconds!” the not-lady all but shouted. “Just a few more seconds!”
The driver replied, but Cybil couldn’t make out his words over the pounding of her pulse in her ears.
Landon would be so mad if he knew about this. Bobby was putting himself directly into harm’s way—the very place Cybil had worked so hard to keep him from—and for what? For her?
“I should get back,” she said, fumbling with the seat belt.
“Sorry, Mrs. Wyatt, but that’s not happening.” The woman in red slid into the seat next to her and put a firm hand on the buckle. “And I apologize for ruining your dress. It was pretty.” This strange creature turned her head to the side, appraising Cybil with unnervingly frank eyes.
“He’ll come after Bobby,” Cybil said, her voice breaking on the end. She scrabbled at the woman’s hands, trying to pry them loose of the seat belt. Panic tasted metallic in her mouth. “He’ll hurt my son! I have to protect him!”
“He’s a grown man,” the stranger said, taking hold of Cybil’s hands. Her grip was firm but not cruel. “Bobby is capable of protecting himself. And you, if you’ll trust him. Just trust him.”
The car started to move. “Five more seconds!” the woman yelled at the driver.
“He said to go now!” the driver yelled back.
“What’s happening?” Cybil said, hating how the weakness bled into her voice. Hating that this was what she’d been reduced to. Begging a complete stranger for information.
To her surprise, the woman carefully wrapped an arm around Cybil’s shoulders. “You’re going somewhere safe. Believe me, your husband will never be able to find you.”
The car began to roll again just as the passenger door wrenched open and Cybil screamed as the woman in red shielded her because for a second she thought it was Landon there, eyes blazing, chest heaving, and she knew this time, a few broken bones would be child’s play. But then it was Bobby, her Bobby, climbing into the car and slamming the door shut behind him. Bobby yelling at the driver to go, dammit. Bobby helping the woman into the seat across from Cybil.
Bobby sitting next to her, wrapping his arms around her.
“My son,” she said, promptly ruining his tuxedo jacket with her tears and smeared makeup and spilled champagne.
“I’ve got you, Mom,” he said, his voice breaking as he held her—but gently, like he could tell where she was hurting. “You’re safe now.”
“You’re
not,” she wept because Landon would destroy him. Landon would destroy them all. “Why, Bobby? Why would you risk yourself for me?”
“He’s stronger than you think,” the woman said, her voice kind. “Because that’s how you raised him to be.”
Cybil got herself under control. Years of practice made it practically second nature. “Who are you?” she asked because clearly this was someone her son trusted.
The woman smiled. It looked real and soft, and unfamiliar hope fluttered in Cybil’s chest. Had Bobby found someone?
But then the woman spoke and dashed her hopes. “I’m his bartender.”
Fourteen
“Are you sure about this?” Mom asked as Robert guided her up the narrow stairs into the plane.
“I’m sure. We’ll talk anytime you want and in a few months, I’ll fly down and visit you.” Robert settled her into her seat. “He won’t keep us apart.”
Mom was crying softly. “Don’t let him hurt you,” she said, her voice surprisingly level despite her tears. “I couldn’t live with myself if...”
Robert pressed a kiss to her good cheek. “I’m not a little kid anymore, Mom. I promise you, I’ve got the situation under control. You focus on getting well.” He motioned the nurse forward. “Bridget here will be with you the whole time.”
Mom nodded, looking panicked. Then she glanced out the window and seemed to calm. Robert followed her gaze and saw Jeannie standing near the limo, wind billowing her skirt. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” she whispered.
“I do.”
Landon Wyatt wouldn’t have any idea what’d hit him. The disappearance of his wife was merely the first domino to fall.
Mom turned back to him. She took a deep breath and nodded. “All right. But promise me this, Bobby—if you get the chance at real happiness, grab it. Hold on to it.” She gripped his hand with surprising strength. But then, she’d always been so much stronger than she let on. “Be happy, Bobby.” She looked at Jeannie again. “Be well and be happy. It’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”
Robert had to swallow a few times before his throat worked right. He’d gotten a little bit of happiness for a short time. It would have to do. “That’s what I want for you, too.” Mom gave him a scolding look, tinged with a smile, so Robert promised. “I will. I swear.”
He kissed her goodbye and checked in with Bridget one last time. Then he was climbing down the stairs and Jeannie was waiting for him. After tonight he wouldn’t get the comfort of going to her when he needed her.
How was he supposed to go on without her?
But he didn’t have the luxury of loving Jeannie, not until Landon was either behind bars or six feet under and not until Robert could be sure the bastard hadn’t left behind instructions that would endanger Jeannie or his mother.
Jeannie slipped her hand in his and a brief moment of hope flared in his chest as the plane door shut and locked. She’d said she’d wait for him, hadn’t she? If Robert knew that she’d be there with the perfect Manhattan and that take-no-crap smile—maybe even with a silk tie tangled in her fingers—after this thing with Landon was settled, he’d be content to wait.
But that wasn’t fair to her. She had a life—a baby to care for, a job she enjoyed. He was a customer, a benefactor—and a lover, perhaps—but that didn’t make her his.
Robert knew what Landon would say. He’d say Jeannie belonged to Robert. He was a Wyatt and Wyatts took what they wanted. Landon would spout off about how Robert had to demand respect when he meant fear, as if fear was somehow more magical than love or trust.
Yes, that was what Landon Wyatt would do.
Which was exactly why Robert would let Jeannie go.
As the plane began to move, Robert caught a glimpse of his mother’s face, tear-streaked and shocked. She lifted a hand and Robert returned the small wave.
Jeannie leaned against him, shoulder to shoulder, almost the same height he was in her heels. They stood together in silence as the plane taxied down the runway and took off.
It was done. Mom was on her way. Everything else was falling into place.
So why couldn’t he move?
Because moving would bring him closer to the end of tonight. To the end of his time with Jeannie.
He wasn’t sure he was strong enough to do what had to be done.
“Sir?” Kelly came forward. “Do you want the updates?”
Mechanically, Robert nodded. But he turned to Jeannie. “Wait for me?” Because he wasn’t strong enough. Not...yet, anyway.
Her fingers tightened around his hand. She was less than a breath away—closer than that when she lifted her other hand and brushed her thumb over his cheek. “Of course.”
Then she kissed the spot she’d just stroked, her lips lingering. He could smell champagne on her breath mingling with the orange scent she always wore.
He had to let her go. He had to. And if she wouldn’t listen—because this was Jeannie, after all—then he’d have to keep her away.
He wrapped his arm around her waist and held her tight, inhaling her scent deeply. Each moment was another memory he tucked away, another glimpse of happiness that he’d hold on to for later.
He’d promised, after all.
“I’ll wait in the car,” she whispered in his ear.
But he didn’t let her go. Not just yet. Another moment, that was all he needed. He couldn’t take her home because Landon might show up at any moment, full of rage and hate, and follow them. And Maja was at Jeannie’s house, to say nothing of the baby.
“After this,” he murmured against her temple, “I’ll take you to see the stars.”
He felt the tremor of excitement move through her. “From your terrace?” Her body pressed against his, a promise of more than just another moment. She reached up between them and tugged the ends of his bow tie loose and just like that, he went rock-hard for her. “I’d like that. But I couldn’t wish for anything more.”
He shook his head. “You deserve more than one star. You deserve them all.” That would be his parting gift to her. The night sky and all those stars to wish upon.
She pulled the tie from around his neck as she put distance between them. Black silk dangling from her fingertips, her knowing smile in the dim lighting made him want to forget about Landon and revenge and corporate takeovers and everything but Jeannie and him and this wanting that existed between them.
She turned on her heel and, with a come-hither look over her shoulder, strode to the car, where Reginald was waiting to open the door for her. Robert couldn’t move as she climbed in, revealing the curve of her leg as she pulled her foot inside. He wasn’t even sure he was breathing until the car door closed.
Then Reginald had the nerve to wink. At Robert! Really, this was too much.
But that cheekiness broke the spell Robert was under. He turned to find Kelly pointedly looking at everything but Robert or the limo and, one presumed, Jeannie.
“Is everything on track?” Robert asked, straightening his cuffs. He felt undressed without his tie. Which was most likely the point.
Well, one of them.
“Yes. The photographer reports that Landon is still at the gallery, although he’s delaying the start of his speech and growing more agitated by the second.” Kelly held out his phone. “Would you like to see the shots?”
“No.” The less space Landon took up in Robert’s brain from here on out, the better. “The lawyers have been notified?”
One for the divorce, a few from the District Attorney’s office and several for the former employees who’d been subjected to Landon’s sexual assaults. In just a few short days they’d found four former maids and six former employees of Wyatt Medical willing to come forward. A few claims were past the statute of limitations, so Robert was funding the civil suits. The others had been turned over to the authorities. The actual number of vic
tims was probably quadruple the ten they’d confirmed, easily.
“Yes. The judge should be approving the emergency search warrant as we speak.”
“Excellent. The guards are on standby?” One posted at Jeannie’s house, just in case Robert had left a loose thread out there for Landon to pull. The others, including two off-duty police officers—one of whom was extremely grateful that his eldest son had just celebrated his sixth birthday after a successful heart valve repair—were watching his house.
“Yes. The forensic accountant has already found some very large...discrepancies between the Wyatt Medical financials and Landon’s campaign fund.” Kelly closed his portfolio. “You’re sure about this?”
This was completely and methodically destroying his father, piece by piece.
Robert almost smiled. He was a Wyatt, after all, and Wyatts demanded respect. They didn’t hesitate or have second thoughts. When someone slighted a Wyatt, they responded by dominating. By destroying, if that was what it took.
It wasn’t enough to have Landon publicly humiliated.
He had to be ended. Simple as that.
And Robert was the only person who could do it. Because he was a Wyatt and this was what Landon had made him into. Someone cruel and hard and utterly without mercy.
So he nodded once. Landon Wyatt would get no mercy. Not from his only child.
Kelly let out a breath he apparently had been holding and said, “Then we’re doing this.”
Kelly was a good kid, not the kind of man who’d been raised to engage in this level of back-channel manipulation. Robert appreciated that his assistant wasn’t entirely comfortable with the situation but he also appreciated an employee who did as he was asked.
“I may be...offline for a few hours,” Robert told Kelly, fighting the urge to touch his shirt collar, “but keep me informed.”
He thought Kelly’s cheeks might have darkened but it was hard to tell. “Yes, sir.”
Seduction on His Terms Page 14
